My Encounter with a Cuckold

November 12, 2017

MY CONVOCATION WITH A CUCKOLD

Cuckold – noun – a man whose wife is unfaithful. Used in a sentence, “Nacho had a small dick, so his wife, who wanted to have sex with other partners, presented him with a choice: become a cuckold, or get a divorce.”

Against the odds of conventional wisdom, we sought the pleasures of leisure on a Sunday night. Most of the city was asleep, but this is New York, so there were some people out and about. My friend Hook, a dentist, and I went to the Belfry, where a girl threw up all over one of my shoes.

We headed West, to the Meatpacking District; not necessarily my natural habitat, not my stomping grounds, with its fancy clubs and young, bridge-and-tunnel clientele, but I’m open-minded, and usually happy to go wherever. We tried to get into Bingo Night at The Standard, a thoroughly-lit event each Sunday, but it was reservation-only. So we went to Le Bain, the club with the jacuzzi and views of the river. Not many people were there, so it was cool. I began conversating with a graduate student of Chinese descent, who stated to me that she had a boyfriend. Hook began a conversation with a more enthusiastic blonde, and it became evident to Hook and I and everyone around us that he would be going home with said blonde. It was around 3 AM, so I left, anticipating a post-sex text message from Hook.

That text never arrived, but another one did.

Walking home, heading east, a pilgrimage made by so many, I received a message on Tinder from a Russian woman with photos so stunning I thought her to be a robot, or a fake profile. Her name was Svetlana (Sveta). She asked, without the formalities of a greeting, “Are you awake?” I replied, “yep, I’m here.” I immediately perked up, and we made silly small talk for several minutes. I asked about her favorite pasta sauce, and she asked about my favorite pizza topping. I thought to myself: the thrill of a late-night Tinder match, the agony of cyclical small-talk that doesn’t lead anywhere. But then she gave me her phone number, which I googled. I learned that she’s a model, appearing in various publications including Maxim. I want to reiterate: yes, she’s a Maxim model.

After several more minutes of platonic yet sexually tense conversation, she hit me with the sauce: “I want you to fuck me while my boyfriend watches.” In disbelief, I asked, “Is that right?” And then I said, at once feeling hesitant and exited, “sign me up.”

Conversation with Maxim Model:

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In the interim, Hook had informed me that his girl’s wing-woman had cock-blocked, and he was now sex-less and alone. I invited him to head to Washington Heights, the home of my Tinder match and her cuckold boyfriend. We headed Uptown, a journey of around 150 blocks, to deep Washington Heights, in an Uber Pool. Along for the ride was an overly-sensitive and self-righteous snowflake type who, at the same time, advocated in favor of terrorists and for the forced expulsion of Jews from Israel. I got into a bit of a spat with him, but remained laser-focused on the task at hand. It was now 5 AM, and my girl in Washington Heights was growing impatient. I’m not usually great on the phone (or via text, or in person) so Hook called Sveta, pretending to be me, so as to tell her we were well en-route.

We arrived at Sveta’s front door. The sun was rising, rain was falling. In disbelief, a stunning, absolutely gorgeous woman appeared at the door. Her face was majestic, and no words other than sensational and godly can describe her rear end. I’m a connoisseur of assess, but I had never before seen such gluteal perfection. She advised that she only had room for one guest and that Hook had to go home. Admittedly, I didn’t tell her that Hook was coming along for the ride, but I was hoping that, given the outlandish nature of her sexual proposition, she would be okay with him partaking. I felt badly for Hook, who took the loss like a man should. He took that loss with grace and elegance. I gave him $20 to take a cab home. And I went upstairs, with Sveta.

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“SHE INFORMED ME THAT HER BOYFRIEND WAS ALREADY NAKED, JERKING OFF IN THE BEDROOM.”
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Sveta and I stopped outside her front door. She informed me that her boyfriend was already naked, jerking off in the bedroom. It was rather odd, and a bit gross. I told her that I thought this whole thing was a bit weird and that I was having second thoughts. I mean, can you blame me? But then she started making out with me, and put my hands on her ass, and I melted; I was nearly dizzy. I had never kissed or touched a Maxim model before. It was a moment I’ll remember a while, just as those in previous generations remember the moment a man landed on the moon. I was powerless, with Gumby knees, letting her guide me to her bedroom. She advised me to be quiet as her two roommates were sleeping.

I trepidatiously entered her bedroom. Indeed, her boyfriend was in the corner of the bedroom, completely naked, jerking off his cock. He seemed to be a good looking guy, and I wondered why he wanted this to happen. I did my best to ignore him, not look at him at all. I didn’t exchange even a word or a glance with him. Sveta pushed me onto her queen-sized bed and proceeding to put my very large dick in her mouth; all 10 inches. She then started riding me, in the cow position, her on top. Up until this moment, I succeeded in compartmentalizing what was happening; I ignored her boyfriend, almost forgetting he was there, as he languished in the corner, a disgraced cuck with his hands on his cock. But then, mid-way through my fornication with Sveta, her boyfriend started making all sorts of noises. I didn’t look at him, but I suspect that perhaps he was ejaculating on the floor. I was slightly horrified, and soon after, I finished. I didn’t want to engage in awkward conversation between rounds, so I left rather quickly. Her boyfriend opened his mouth for the first time: “maybe we’ll see you on another night.”

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“I ENJOYED THE MOMENTS WE HAD WITH ONE ANOTHER, WITHOUT HER CUCK BOYFRIEND’S SUPERVISION.”
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Sveta walked me to her front door, and we made out, again, as we did at the beginning of this whole ordeal. The bookends of the episode were perhaps the best parts; Sveta was the best and most attractive kisser of whom I had ever encountered first-hand. I enjoyed the moments we had with one another, without her cuck boyfriend’s supervision.

It was about 7 AM at this point, and I was wide awake. I texted Hook, letting him know what had just transpired in this unassuming Washington Heights bedroom. I walked about ten blocks, so as to expend some energy, and Sveta texted me: “Thanks for a good time. Next time I want you to fuck me while I suck his dick 😀.” (The smiley-face emoji was included before the punctuation).

I pondered to myself what had just happened. Certainly, one off the bucket list. I had bulled a cuck, as the old adage goes, and further, I had the good fortune of having sex with a Maxim model. At the same time, I was a little disgusted at the fact that a male spectator oversaw the whole encounter. But I don’t want to give the cuckold too much trouble; this is New York, this is 2017, no kink-shaming here.

On the way home, I stopped at a fruit stand. I wondered if the fruit guy had any sense of what I had just done. Perhaps he knew. He’s a very intuitive fruit guy. I bought four peaches and two apples and I went home, to my own bed, but for once, the deities of sex and lust had answered my pleas with just that: sex, lust, and a spattering of odd kink.

I don’t have a political color or a political agenda. All I have is hope. Hope is the last thing to lose. This endeavor, this encounter, this dream, it’s all because of hope — and because of you. Because of your support. You’ve vindicated my hope, you’ve given me hope that despite the struggles, despite the series of ups and downs, the dream lives on, my dream lives on in all of my precious readers.

Regards and thanks,

Ronnie Shapiro, editor-in-chief

Jason Cohen, executive producer